


Enchanted - a tale of Beltane and Yuletide........ and Mark

by freddiejoey



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24387967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiejoey/pseuds/freddiejoey
Summary: Sometimes all you need is a little magic...…..
Kudos: 1





	Enchanted - a tale of Beltane and Yuletide........ and Mark

Part One

Arthur loves to be awoken at dawn with a kiss. Not that it’s something the overly-reserved leader of the Celtic alliance will readily admit to. Still, it’s exceedingly nice when before he opens his eyes this morning, he feels Rowena’s lips sweetly brush against his and her sweet, pink, little tongue luring his to dance.

Especially as this doesn’t happen half as often with Rowena as it does with Kai. His fiery princess of the Jutes decidedly not being a sunrise person and Kai very definitely being a cockcrow votary – in more delicious ways than one.

Moreover it’s a sunny, summer dawn. Outside there’s wild plum blossom and blackthorn in the hedgerows. Wind-tossed catkins and luminous primroses. Golden celandines, shiny as Kai’s hair. Banks of violets so heady with perfume that you can catch it without having to stoop.

While inside………cautiously Arthur peers through his dark lashes. No-one in the bedroom is stirring. The boys are all still slumbering. Kai and Lenni lay unmoving under their quilt – albeit Kai is a slender outline while Lenni is a rather buxom shape, Romulus and Remus being somewhat reluctant to greet the world. Even their usual sleeping-chamber roosters – lively Llud and ever-spry Shannyn – haven’t stirred. One snoring like a rusty saw hacking wood. The other nestled on her pallet, just a small, plump hand curled above the sheepskins.

Once more, Rowena’s wet tongue slowly rims Arthur’s mouth. Making Arthur rigid as that oak Llud is clearly trying to cleave with his wheezing.

“Hello darling.” Rowena brushes aside Arthur’s silky black hair and whispers against his ear. Nipping the lobe softly with her sharp, white teeth for good measure. “Today we have two things to celebrate – can you guess what they are?” Tenderly, Arthur strokes her cheek and grins. “Well, it’s Beltane tonight, so that’s the first………but as to the second…….” His eyes narrow speculatively. “Actually, no my sweet, I can’t think what else can be the cause of such revelry………”

Looking bemused, Rowena fondles his burgeoning prick beneath the blanket. Sliding a wanton finger down its hot, hard length. “Well…….he certainly knows a goodly thing is on the way – this horned god of power and play and plenty…………I wasn’t sure you’d glean what else is goading my amorous advances so I’ll tell you.” Rowena twinkles brightly as any enchanted midsummer faery. “It was before last Yuletide that you and I exchanged a truly cross word – half a year Arthur! Half a year without a full-blown, smash-the-tableware quarrel. For us, that’s a miracle your wonder-working Christ couldn’t better.”

Has it really been six months since the pottery last flew? Fancy that, though Arthur judges that it has been quite an age……… and fancy his usually-plainspoken, matter-of-fact Jute girl indulging such a sentimental notion. Actually tallying the weeks.

That’s when Arthur has to pull the blanket over his head to stifle his high-spirited laughter at her utter delight. Which of course leads to much high-spirited and delightful cossetting in their warm, shadowy lair. Rowena protesting that she must go and heat the porridge – it’s not poor Lenni’s turn. Then giggling like a besotted girl when Arthur’s mouth finds her flushed nipple and gives it a provocative nibble.

Wadding her fist across her lips as Arthur grazes lower, his tongue darting toward her belly-button with serpentine speed…….

Thump! Something solid and deftly-aimed lands at the bottom of their bed. Startled, Arthur throws off the blanket – and gazes into his father’s rueful face. The something is Llud’s pillow – even with the disadvantage of his iron paw, Llud has deadly accuracy when he hurls.

Besides, now everyone in the bedroom is wide awake. The older boys simply yawning and stretching, since passion in its various guises is certainly no novelty for them – much more excited about tonight’s bonfires than Arthur and Rowena’s recent wildfire amid the fleeces. Kai grinning happily, little Ren blinking on his knee, and gleefully blowing Arthur an extravagant kiss. Shannyn and baby Baden deciding that their parents seem to be having sack-loads of fun and scrambling up to join them. Llud, sighing and muttering about Beltane haste and hustle and smiling fondly behind his good hand.

Only Lenni appears to be less than ardent concerning the maytime festivities. Rubbing her back and mournfully inspecting her swollen feet – which she has to stretch straight out on the mattress to even glimpse. Gesturing impatiently at Kai when he chivalrously suggests that she should have her breakfast in here and rest a while – what does he think she is? A bedridden invalid and an indolent one to boot? She has honey cake and herb bread to make and apple ale to spice. Really Kai……and her fingers flutter like flustered moths around a fretful flame.

Of course, the moment that Kai’s beautiful mouth turns down forlornly at its shapely corners, anxious that he’s irked Lenni, she is immediately contrite. Gently dropping repentant kisses on Kai’s blonde curls. Signing sorry for her ill temper. Overwhelmingly relieved when that beautiful mouth tilts upwards at its shapely corners again.

Playfully Kai pats Lenni’s ample stomach, instructing their twins to sally forth. Being answered by a vigorous kick and the sharp thrust of a tiny elbow.

Once, in a Gaul market, Arthur had seen a pile of strange, exotic fruits: glossy and rounded, with thick reddish skins stretched fit to burst. Taut and ripe and somehow voluptuous. That’s what Lenni reminds him of with Romulus and Remus straining her smock.

And her tits are as wide and lush and beauteous as full-fledged melons…..

Heavens, he’s horny – must be Beltane lust running rampant. Lucky then that tonight he’ll have the pleasure of lovely Rowena’s company…………and later still the bliss of his Kai’s……..

Lucky too that Arthur feels such midsummer sparkle because no sooner have they eaten than Llud is assigning tasks and toil and labour. Heardred the Builder and his Roman principles knew just the raw basics - Llud at Beltane is a tempest of know-how and efficiency.

There’ll be no laggards tolerated today.

Lenni is left to bake and brew in peace, watched over by Rowena, and soon filling the longhouse with heavenly aromas that would tempt the gods. Certainly they will tempt Kai which is fortunate since Lenni is really only coddling and mulling for his delight.

Out amid the brilliant sunshine, Llud sets the three little ones to gathering hawthorn, his three elder grandsons to chopping ash and oak kindling, Kaitlin and Maeve to picking wild herbs.

Frowning, he spies Arthur and Kai loitering near the store hut, looking completely lovey-dovey. Obviously mooning together. Well, let them moon tonight by moonlight as Llud fully intends to do with his beloved Olwen. Now they can just take themselves off to the forest and get busy fetching a good, stout fire tree and stripping it of its branches. Exactly what’s needed for the village maidens to dance around while the bonfires blaze.

Yes, it’s a brisk, bustling day under Llud’s hawk-eyed supervision.

It’s also happy and lively and brimming with laughter and anticipation.

By dusk all the preparations are done and the celebrations can begin.

The faeries are afoot. Love wafts on the warm summer air. New life is stirring and appetites are keen.

Pausing for a moment in the sleeping chamber where he’s gone to change into their blue shirt, Kai smiles contentedly. He is wholly ready and perfectly equipped.

A flagon of the special mead that Efa makes for Llud ( a nice fresh barrel having arrived just last week.)

A jar of rose oil (for Lenni.)

A flask of lavender slick (for Arthur)

Oh……..and a huge, throbbing erection that threatens to rent his breeches.

Kai laughs joyfully.

Welcome Beltane. Blessed be. Here I come!

Part Two

Goat-footed God, Faunus of the forest glades,  
We hear the music of thy melodious pipes  
Enchanting our ears upon the evening wind.  
Beneath the fullness of the May-night Moon  
Thy silhouette plays hide-and-seek  
Among the shadows of silver-tipped trees.  
Thy hooves striking sparks like shooting stars  
As they step in spritely patterns  
To the rhythm of the Ways of the Wild……….

The celebrations have been wonderful – worth every moment of Llud’s care and diligence.

Couples jumping through the flames of the bonfires. Dancing and revelling. Eating and drinking and feasting like kings and queens.

Evoking magic and praying for summer blessings.

Lovers embracing on the edge of the encroaching darkness and seeking the refuge of the rustling woods.

Now the older longhouse children have been charged with the safekeeping of the younger. Llud has slipped off hand-in-hand into the forest with a blushing Owyn. Arthur has disappeared toward the stables with Rowena………and Kai is happily inspecting Lenni’s bare arse in the healer’s hut.

And a very pretty arse it be too. Tilted provocatively toward him by Lenni who is crouched on all fours among the fleeces.

Well, it’s really the only practical position at the present time. Practical and serviceable as it were. Romulus and Remus rendering anything else rather impossible.

Not that Kai minds. Not in the slightest……..

Glancing over her shoulder, Lenni gestures frenziedly. “Come, make haste Kai. Choose a cleft and away. I want you………need you……….love you………….oh, how I love you Kai………..”

Her brown eyes are wide and laughing and pleading in the firelight and impatiently she shakes her pale, pleasing bum at him.

Grinning, Kai leans forward and his mouth swoops down. Plundering hers until Lenni is dazed and dizzy and fighting to breathe. Swaying blissfully on her knees.

“I think……….your peach………little Lenni……. Ripe and sweet and fragrant……where the hospitality could tempt a man to stay forever……..”

His hard cock leaps, rife and rampant, and his balls throb.

Tenderly Kai grazes his teeth over her lips, watching her shudder.

She may not have his heart………but she has his deepest love and friendship and affection ……..and his twins rollicking in her belly.

One long, slender finger gently strums her hot twat – and Lenni goes honeyed with Beltane fire.

“Fuck me Kai…….from behind………make me fly……..”

Rose oil and enchanted fulfilment and greedy, fevered, frenzied passion.

Kai’s hands brand and his mouth bruises.

She may not hear his rough, ragged groans, but she can feel his hammering pulse.

Lenni’s strong, fecund body bucks.

A thoroughbred ready to ride.

Trembling indeed like a half-tamed stallion, Kai mounts, driving himself headlong into that wet, waiting heat.

Lenni arches to meet him, hips thrashing………….and races with Kai into the roaring dark…………..

The battle-horses are running free in the summer meadows – and Arthur is running free toward rapture.

Empty, warm stables, heady smells of fresh hay and burgeoning sex………and his fair Rowena writhing wildly beneath him.

There is implacable strength in the hands that clutch him, searing joy in the mouth that tastes his, whiplike power in the thighs grappling under his.

Savagely Rowena kisses Arthur, her fingers fisting in his glossy dark hair. Sucking fiercely at the base of his throat, craving fire and flesh.

Whimpering softly. Listening to his keening mewls.

Beltane magic – skin like sunlight, eyes like smoke, shafts of moonglow shimmering around her like torchlight.

Together they are impossibly spellbound.

“Come for me Arthur……..” Her moist, rosy cunt pushes into his achingly swollen shaft.

“Capture me……..claim me………be my incubus in the night…………my storm that cracks the very air………”

About them the world begins to spiral, a blur of ethereal colour and light, whirling quicker, swifter, until they grip each other to keep from tumbling off the edge of the earth.

Their clenched knuckles whiten to bone.

Rowena bites back a scream as Arthur sends her winging……..rushing……..soaring.

As he holds fast and lets go……..

Afterwards, while she murmurs her love and scatters his face with silken, happy tears, Arthur gently strokes her hair and scatters butterfly kisses across her white neck.

He would gift Rowena everything……anything…. except what he cannot entrust………..his heart.

Since you cannot bestow what has been forever yielded elsewhere.

The sacred lightning of legend that marks your other half – and which belongs only to his Kai.

Yet how truly Arthur does love her………the only woman who has ever touched his soul……

Softly his lips anoint hers. “You know that you take my breath away……. how deeply I cherish you......I’m sorry that because……..” Arthur falters, gathering Rowena close. “That I can never give you the lightning…….”

Her blue eyes gaze into his, infinitely bemused and unutterably tender. “And Arthur you must know ………..I would change nothing………the lightning……..you’ve already given it to me darling……….every day of our lives together……..”

Smiling, Arthur presses his forehead to hers, bending to once more claim her mouth…….. when Kai comes bursting through the ill-latched doors. Shirt and breeches awry as if flung on in desperate haste. Panting heavily. Anxious and spooked.

“Rowena……..it’s……..the sheepskins are sodden and Lenni………..doubled up………..almost before we were…………..Rowena, the twins, they’re coming……at breakneck speed………”

Part Three

It may well be Arthur who’s the masterly military tactician and Kai who is his right-hand lieutenant in such matters. But it’s Rowena who organizes everyone with soldierly precision once Lenni has been helped back to the longhouse and settled in their sleeping chamber by Kai – gesturing as usual that Kai’s children must be born in the longhouse which is his home. Moreover Rowena does it all while suckling Baden at her breast and keeping a sharp eye on the huge cauldron of hot water bubbling over the hearth fire. Arthur watches in admiration as she briskly delivers instructions.

“Theo, take the little ones to the healer’s hut for the night………. Cedric, set a pan of goat’s milk there over the banked fire – it will soothe if anyone is fretful……...Luc and Maeve, no squabbling or you’ll get the rough edge of my tongue tomorrow…….” Kaitlin puts a hand on her mother’s arm. “Do you want me to fetch Olwen? I think she and Grandad will be a little north of the lake……”

Smiling ruefully, Rowena’s fingers close around her practical and observant daughter’s. “No my love, you know how anxious Llud gets at times such as these. Leave him be till later……….” Rowena glances meaningfully at Arthur over their daughter’s dark head and turns back to Kaitlin. “However……….you may have just ten summers Kait, but you have your father’s steady nerve and his steadfast composure. I would be glad of your help during the next few hours if you’re willing…….” Solemnly Kaitlin nods – tying on an apron and gathering fleecy cloths, a flask of vinegar and a basin of flaxseed salve into a basket.

From beside the fire, Arthur watches his calm, competent elder daughter with quiet pride. Kaitlin also has her mother’s plainspoken resolve and commonsense. Their precious firstborn. In a moment he’s going to well up – exactly like Kai’s wont to do.

“Alright…….” Carefully Rowena places a sleeping Baden against Theo’s shoulder. “Away with you now – your mother needs peace for a safe journey……” Kai emerges from the bedroom, plaintively scratching his tousled, flaxen curls. “Lenni’s ordered me gone – I don’t think it will be long………what can……..?” Decisively Rowena interrupts him, her mouth quirking. “You and Arthur can find something………captivating to occupy yourselves till you’re summoned………I’m certain that won’t be too hard for you both……….maybe that’s a poor choice of words………on second thoughts, no, it’s entirely appropriate…….” And, grinning impishly, she shuts the longhouse doors firmly behind them.

It’s not until Kai stumbles playfully into Arthur’s shoulder and Arthur sniffs his big brother’s spicy breath, that Arthur realises Kai has already swilled one brimming flagon of Efa’s special brew – and has now retrieved another full jug from behind the water trough. Obviously Kai has secreted it there earlier for his own delectable purposes.

Amid the longhouse shadows, Arthur brushes Kai’s mouth ……..slowly ……..lushly ……..deeply with his own. “Kai my heart, do you have plans for that second pitcher? Anything that perchance involves……..me?” Intoxicated with heady mead and headier love, Kai nuzzles his little brother’s nape. “Well………maybe sweetheart……….it’s certainly one of Efa’s best offerings……….and there’s some lavender oil still going begging………..Besides, I always have butterflies when Lenni’s whelping ……..doubly so tonight, I deserve solace …………If you have the stamina………I thought for our own private Beltane celebration………the hiding place by the river……….”

Arthur gives a scoffing snort of laughter. “If I have the stamina indeed you bloody braggart……” Gleefully, he snatches the mead flagon from Kai and swills. Then, very tenderly, cups Kai’s beautiful face between his hands. “You deserve so much more than I’ve ever been able to give you my Kai. More and beyond.”

Tilting his head like a lively blonde songbird, Kai looks baffled. “Strange that beloved . Since you’ve given me the world……….by bestowing your heart……….. what more then could I ever need?.........”

Softly, the pad of Kai’s thumb traces the line of one black eyebrow – the songbird feathering his mate.

“Arthur, are those tears? You sweet moonstuck romantic………here, another good draft of mead……….I love how it trickles down your neck……..another good long kiss……….mmmmm………..lovely………and off to the hiding place before we’re both reduced to weeping bliss……….”

The Queen of the Faeries is abroad tonight, astride her milk-white mare. Accompanied by her milk-white doe. She of the emerald kirtle and yellow-as-primrose tresses. Who can turn water into wine. Weave spiders’ webs into fine, handwoven fabric. Play bewitching music on the faery reed.

Roving the forest and the estuary to entice and enchant.

Lifting a corner of the gauzy veil between reality and magic……

Kai’s strong, straight body is warm against Arthur’s as they entwine in their leafy refuge. Laughing riotously from the potent mead. Tasting sweet, fragrant honey-wine on the tips of tongues, the petal of open lips, the curve of each other’s throats. Licking and sucking and nibbling.

Kissing Kai’s palm, Arthur lies down on the summer-flowering ground, spreading his legs.

Kneeling gently, Kai whines deep in his throat. A wolfish sigh of joy. Trailing a languid finger along the silk-smooth skin of Arthur’s rigid cock. Leaning forward to nose tenderly at Arthur’s velvety sac and scent Arthur’s entrance.

Then he unstops the oil flask and begins to slick his little brother in lavender essence.

Shuddering rapturously, Arthur closes his eyes……..and that is when he feels the fire.

Sees it spiralling within his mind.

Fire for light. For heat. For comfort. Pale gold flames edged with garnet red. Glowing low and simmering. Rising up like blazing beacon torches to the wide, onyx Beltane sky. Smokeless and beautiful.

Yet not half as beautiful as his Kai, his heart.

Dizzy and boneless, Arthur sways against the grass, beneath Kai’s enchanted fingers.

Kai kisses Arthur hard on the mouth, whispering endearments, stroking his hair, straddling him.

Arthur’s head falls back and his eyes open – wholly ecstatic and violently blue.

The air goes hushed and waiting………..

“Perfect”. Kaitlin holds the newly-fledged, newly-cleaned baby on her lap and beams at her mother and aunt. “Absolutely perfect.” Quietly the baby mewls and Lenni smiles, flushed and triumphant. Her dark hair sweat-tangled on her forehead. Still panting heavily.

She gazes besottedly at her tiny nestling. “Kai’s whelp alright – making haste to enter the world once it had made up its mind……..” From where she’s crouched at the foot of the bed, Rowena gives a firm nod as Lenni grimaces once more. Pierced by another raw wave of pain.

Swiftly, Rowena daubs both hands with flaxseed salve. “Quick Kait, put that little one among the cradle fleeces …………the second bairn is well on the way……….and if I’m not mistaken this one is coming feet first…….”

The sensation of Arthur’s moist breath on his pulsing flesh hardens Kai to brimming.

He moans gruffly, rubbing his stiff cock across Arthur’s curly sable fur, feeling Arthur melt against him.

From the corner of his eye, Kai sees a lightning flash of white.

Glancing up, he blinks and stares with incredulous wonder. Utterly captivated.

There, below the interlaced canopy of the hiding place, stands an ivory-coloured doe. Pale and pearly. Serene gold eyes and a hide that’s downy like cloud.

Part Four

The fire kindles.

The doe leaps.

The enchantment unfurls………..

Kai licks down the creamy column of Arthur’s neck. Biting gently to mark his mate. Letting his tongue roam amid the light smattering of dark hair tufting Arthur’s chest. Pausing to nip with exquisite precision at Arthur’s pebbled nipples.

Smiling tenderly at the pleasured cries his little brother whimpers forth.

Arthur is aflame. His skin scorched in desire. His soul seared in love.

Ravenously Kai licks Arthur’s rigid cock from root to tip. Rasping at the milky trickle of seed glazing the head.

Arthur’s hips begin an instinctive, primal rise and fall. He thrashes beneath Kai’s hot, wet, circling tongue. A graceful, fiery dance with their hearts keeping the beat.

Moaning his need, his fingers tangling in Kai’s curls, Arthur hurtles toward release. Thrusting elatedly upwards as he comes. Rich, thick essence flooding Kai’s mouth.

Sated and joyful, Arthur grins at Kai. His soft sighs of bliss slipping into Kai like sweet wine from a golden cup.

Then Arthur sprawls his thighs wide again. Inviting and beautiful. Glistening with lavender promise.

“You are all manner of Beltane magic my Kai…………enchant me.”

Kai’s nostrils flare.

Leaning forward, he starts to rain hungry kisses. Along the smooth flesh of Arthur’s belly. Around Arthur’s warm groin. Toward Arthur’s slick, fragrant opening.

Their guttural panting and impassioned groans enmesh to create an intoxicating minstrel’s ballad.

An almost lupine look glints in Kai’s brilliant brown eyes and he growls his ravening want.

Slowly Arthur tilts his slender hips.

With a euphoric howl, Kai enters.

Heat, sudden and ferocious, wheels into Arthur. Bounding through his blood like bewitched, bewitching fire.

Wantonly he lifts his buttocks, grinding on Kai’s huge, throbbing shaft.

Wildly Kai thrusts. Deep and hard. Sweeping Arthur’s inner bud.

His hand frantically strokes Arthur’s renewed erection, feeling Arthur pushing frenziedly against his encircling fist. Driven by the hammer blows of Arthur’s heart.

Wholly Kai is sheathed in Arthur’s velvet, clinging fervour.

They soar. Bodies writhing. Hips striking lightning from each other’s sweat-dappled skin……..

Afterwards………Kai could swear………… rocks becoming jewel-coloured crystals ………. infant, early-summer flowers exploding into enormous blooms of dazzling hues………little streams rising as tumbling waterfalls of luminous silver-blue………

For Arthur there is no grass beneath them………..but candles…………dozens of them ………tall and white…………..burning on silver stands wound about by gilded leaves ……..and a fine bed………draped in alabaster and gold ……….washed in wonder………

Together they rock to rapture and beyond.

Kai bays Arthur’s name.

Arthur hears the sound shatter as they grasp tight……….

As, weeping with triumph, they fly up and plummet down……..

“Daddy, are you decent?” It’s Theo’s voice, edged with amusement.

Contentedly licking the last nectar from his little brother’s moon-kissed navel, Kai’s laughing gaze meets Arthur’s. There has been Beltane magic and faery enchantment to still the stars. Does and lightning and fire. Beauty and sleeping charms and waking dreams. And when Llud discovers how liberally they have drunk Efa’s special brew, he will look decidedly startled –“ you have to go steady with such potent mead, it’s meant to be savoured, not swilled,” their father will reproach.

Yet, most of all, there has been tender desire and forevermore love.

Time, that other wily old magician, has played a few tricks tonight too. It could be almost dawn where it not for the wide, onyx sky spread above them. In truth though, it’s just a couple of hours since they first lay entwined together.

Somewhere, lost amid the summer woods, the gauzy grey veils between the worlds shimmer closed again……….. But, of course, love is endless and unchanging…………

Reaching for his shirt, Kai listens to his eldest son come to a halt just outside the hiding place. “Aunt Wena said to come and get you and Uncle Arthur and to start searching right here. You’re needed back at the longhouse.” Theo is chuckling fit to burst. Swiftly Kai scrambles into his breeches while Arthur pulls on his boots and grins. “Is everything well Theo?” Now Theo’s words soften. “Yes Uncle Arthur……..better than well…….wait till you see………”

The twins are indeed beautiful. Perfect in every way. One with a cap of glossy dark curls. The other a wispy cloud of gossamer, red-brown hair. Both with Kai’s lovely, tip-tilted nose.

Predictably Kai becomes utterly tearful when he beholds them and has to be nicely petted and patted by Arthur. It’s happened each time Kai has looked upon one of his fledgling children – or Arthur’s. It will happen all over again at sunrise when Llud returns from romancing Olwen in the woods and is greeted by the news that he has two, brand -new healthy grand-whelps. Only the happy sobbing will be much worse.

Soon though a weary Rowena shoos Theo to the healer’s hut and Kaitlin to the girls’ bedroom. Their help has been invaluable, but it’s high time for rest and quiet. The other children and Llud will make enough excited babble in the morning to rouse the winter piskies.

Arthur makes a nest of fleeces in front of the fire and Rowena nestles around him. Drowsy and fulfilled. It’s been the best of Beltanes. A safe voyage and a secure harbour for Lenni and the twins. Truly you could ask for nothing more.

Burying her face against Arthur’s chest, Rowena draws in his scent. He smells wonderful –redolent of grass and lavender and Kai. Really, it is most precious of fragrances – since it is simply the fragrance of love.

Inside the sleeping chamber, Kai gazes at the dozing twins, completely enchanted.

“So I suppose there is the matter of names… ………and I’ll be naming our pretty russet-haired nestling since it arrived second …………I’m still unsure what to choose though………what about you sweetheart?” Lenni smiles and rests her head on his shoulder. “Oh, I know what I’ve chosen. I’ve known from the beginning………..but, as they say, I’ll tell you mine when you tell me yours. There’s no rush Kai. A child doesn’t need naming till its half-year – that gives you till Yuletide.”

She puts a hand to her mouth to stifle an enormous yawn. Softly Kai strokes her cheek. “Go to sleep little Lenni. Well-earned sleep at that………..Here, I’ll sing you a lullaby to guide the way……..”

Lenni’s last blissful thought before slumber claims her is how fitting it is that Kai is angelically singing of angels, because he has the voice of one……….no, golden hair and golden heart and the kindest eyes in all the world…………because Kai is one……..

Huna'n dawel, heno, huna,  
Huna'n fwyn, y tlws ei lun;  
Pam yr wyt yn awr yn gwenu,  
Gwenu'n dirion yn dy hun?  
Ai angylion fry sy'n gwenu,  
Arnat ti yn gwenu'n llon,  
Tithau'n gwenu'n ôl dan huno,  
Huno'n dawel ar fy mron?

Sleep in peace tonight, sleep,  
O sleep gently, what a sight.  
A smile I see in slumber deep,  
What visions make your face bright?  
Are the angels above smiling,  
At you in your peaceful rest?  
Are you beaming back while in  
Peaceful slumber on mother’s breast?

Part Five

Arthur loves lists. They make him feel orderly and thorough. Written on a spare leaf of parchment and neatly scribed with a wickedly-sharpened quill. So now, he sits among the fleeces on his bed – well, it’s a raw, old wintry day – knees steepled, concentrating so intensely that his tongue is peeking out sweetly between his teeth.

From the main room of the longhouse he can hear the children’s revelry and Kai’s louder high jinks, but Arthur will join in later. He needs peace and quiet for the task at hand because Arthur’s completing his Yuletide gift list – or rather ensuring that no-one and nothing has been omitted or overlooked. So:

Llud – one nice, handsome, new shirt. Fine fabric and immaculately stitched by Rowena. A rich russet in colour. (Yes, Llud will smile and nod and say a fulsome thank-you – and then promptly fold it away in his clothes chest. Valiantly clinging to his usual hole-ridden garb. But there’s a wedding at Dirk’s encampment come spring and the bride is Llud’s kin – perhaps the russet can be coaxed out for a smart marriage feast entrance – here’s hoping anyway.)

Theo – one sturdy, black sword belt. Good quality leather and studded in silver. (Theo’s thirteen now and wears Kai’s second best sword when they ride out. Two more summers and he’ll join the war-band. Next Yuletide he’ll be ready for his own shield. )

Cedric and Luc – a shiny iron knife each. With handles of burnished stag antler. (To be used for mealtimes, butchering livestock, cutting and shaping according to Llud’s dictates and as a weapon if need be. Also for whatever boyish pursuits might take their fancy and Arthur knows they’ll be plenty. Cedric is as adventurous as Kai at their age and Luc far more devil-may-care than Arthur’s ever been.)

Kaitlin and Maeve and Shannyn – sturdy, yet elegant ivory combs. Carved with mystical animals: the graceful curves of the crane, the stalwart might of the bull, the slow coiled menace of the snake. And a strong bone case for each comb’s safekeeping since the teeth are delicate and easy to snap. (Ah……the joys of having his Kai to do shrewd, canny trade and bartering in Cornwall. Kai may be the land’s most ill-fated gambler, but he can bargain and haggle with the best.)

Ren and Baden and the twins – easy this, because Llud always whittles the little ones trifles and trinkets. (Arthur has caught a glimpse of lively wooden falcons and bears and boars – obviously Llud has gone for a hunting motif this year.)

Rowena and Lenni – fillets of metal-brocaded, tablet-woven silk. To be worn around their pretty heads on feast days. One gold, the other silver-gilt. (Thank the gods again for Kai’s canny eye and long experience of feminine whims and wiles. Arthur no doubt would have brought home something that could have bridled a mare.)

His Kai – (now, this is where Arthur thoughtfully taps his quill against his wrist and frowns.) A pair of warm, fleecy, sheepskin slippers. Laced together with leather thongs. Round-toed and flat-soled and wonderfully comfortable. Lovingly fashioned by Lenni whenever she can steal a few hours of solitude where Kai won’t spy this singular gift. (Certainly singular it will be and Kai will love paddling among the rushes with his cosy, fleece-clad feet. Certainly Arthur will feel quite envious since he loathes chill toes. Yet, Arthur would also like to acquire something else special for his beautiful big brother. Something more personal from him alone. Though time is short now and Arthur has left his run somewhat late, the days of Yuletide already tumbling by. That will teach him to muse and moon like an old washerwoman, instead of making a decisive decision. He’s as bad as Kai who’s still dillying and dallying over what to call the twin he has been charged with naming.)

Sighing heavily, Arthur scratches his dark fringe. He should feed the bedroom fire. The fierce wind outside is whistling straight off the icy lake. Frost and freeze blighting the ground. Weather for mulled mead and staying close to the hearth.

Perhaps Esla’s trader-husband will have a fitting present for Kai lurking in his coffers. Arthur can go a-seeking up to their homestead this afternoon, well-wrapped and gloved fingers well-crossed……….

Rowena pushes open the door with her hip, her arms full of blankets and pelts. She piles them on Llud’s bed, smiles blithely and bends to kiss his mouth. Yuletide always cheers her mood – not that she’s been especially nettled lately. Albeit they haven’t made it to this Yuletide without blemishing the praiseworthy record of peace and accord that had been maintained until last Beltane.

There have been certain incidents concerning strife and bother. Early autumn saw the longhouse in want of several new earthenware mugs (the old ones having been hurled at Arthur’s glossy head……….a spat over his entrenched obstinacy.) Then a month or so ago the village potter had been busy shaping another high-bellied wine beaker (its predecessor lying in shattered shards on the hearth stones………Arthur failing to listen properly when Rowena was being serious.)

Anyway, today Rowena is happy. Her lips quirking and her blue eyes dancing. She peers curiously over his shoulder at the scroll. “Tallying your Yuletide gifts darling? Lucky we sent the Greek wine to Yorath before the snows came. The cart mightn’t have made it through a week later……….The children and I should go on a visit when the weather breaks. You too if you can be spared……”

Rolling up the parchment, Arthur nods. “Yes we should. Yorath will be glad to see his grand-whelps and there’s some defensive business needs attending to………On the way home I could ride over and frighten Ambrose. He’s overdue for a good scare.” Rowena bursts into laughter. “Any excuse to look upon the lovely Benedicta……..” When Arthur frowns irascibly at her, she only laughs harder. “Oh Arthur, stop being so solemn and take the stick out of your arse. I’ve told you a hundred times – all of that was long-ago and far away. Another life-time. It’s why I can poke fun at it now.”

Nonchalantly Arthur shrugs. “Alright…….actually Benedicta isn’t in Ambrose’s village any more. Or wasn’t when Ambrose’s last letter came just after Samhain. Her son Dwyr’s still there – well settled which is pleasing. But Benedicta and her little girls have gone to Londinium. To stay with Nestor and his family. Though I can’t think that Benedicta will appreciate the damp so close to the River Thamesis.”

Giving a derisive chuckle, Rowena plants herself on Arthur’s lap and slips her arms around his neck.

“Nestor’s wife must be very patient. I said I wasn’t concerned about her and you and I’m not. But I couldn’t bear Benedicta turning up her snooty nose when I put fish without Roman garum on the table or we bath the babies in a bucket.”

Arthur grins against her hair. “Of course Nestor’s wife is a fellow Roman – though she lacks Benedicta’s patrician blood. Still, I don’t think she can cure fish parts in the sun for three months on the banks of the Thamesis – or that her house boasts a steaming hot tub where Benedicta can soak for hours while handmaidens scatter rose-petals on the water.” He butterflies Rowena’s lips softly with his own. “Well my sweet………I suppose I’d best forget my plans for giving our haughty princess of the blood a marble palace and a coloured statue of Minerva as my humble Yuletide tokens……..Funny thing is I had no idea how I was ever going to keep it from Kai………..Palaces and statues being rather hard to hide I would think…….”

As, that very moment, his big brother comes sliding into the sleeping chamber. With flushed cheeks and tousled flaxen curls and a very vexed expression. Kai shuts the wicker door firmly behind him using his boot.

Reminding Arthur irresistibly of the day Kai did just that when he came seeking his little brother, bearing two brimming drink horns.

At the heady memory – and remembering what came after - Arthur’s own horn brims.

Scowling, Kai folds his arms and leans on the bedpost. “Beloved, we have a Yuletide visitor. Kindly ridden in to share our cheer and gobble our meat and guzzle our ale. I suppose you two had better come and offer your greetings. It’s bloody Mark of Cornwall.”

Part Six

Every time he goes away and then comes back for another visit Mark keeps forgetting just how boisterous and downright rowdy Arthur’s longhouse can be these days. Alright, it’s quite a relief to get out of the sharp-edged wind and the stinging cold – to gain the refuge of a warm fire and the warm mead Lenni hands him (albeit with a flinty glance, since he’s never been an apple of her bewitching brown eye, more like a withered windfall.)

Alright too, Mark is rather chill because he has an aversion to sleeves. Stubbornly braving the wintry weather in just leather jerkins and woollen cloaks (only twice as he deigned to don sleeved garments, once at his no-marriage to Rowena and when he stood before the Abbott with his precious Eithna.)

But still, as Mark’s fortunate fingers gratefully clasp his mulled cup, his unfortunate ears are treated to a clamorous din. Arthur and Rowena aren’t here among the Yuletide greenery and nor is Llud and of course Lenni, busy stirring cauldrons and making wassail, isn’t to blame – well, you can’t exactly accuse a mute anyway can you, even one whose vexed gaze could transform a man into a pillar of salt with its ferocity.

No, it’s Kai and the children who are responsible for the racket. Kai’s booming laugh could be heard down beside the icy lake and far beyond Mark would warrant. Then there’s his two elder sons Theo and Cedric and Arthur’s Luc who appear to be seeing which one can stand on their head the longest without toppling over. Kai’s third boy – what’s the child’s name?………something short and sweet………akin to a bird………..Ren, that’s it – is dodging in and out and under the table as if trying to herd an unruly herd of geese to market.

Accompanied by Arthur’s second son, little Baden who has gained a thick cap of brown hair since Mark saw him last. Always before, he has been balder than Mordred’s scholar. It’s Rowena’s colour, though in all else Baden’s indubitably Arthur. All fine, firm whippet strength. What is somewhat unsettling is how happy the child is. Chuckling as his fleece-clad bottom lands among the rushes and he scrambles nimbly to his feet again. How did old sober-sides cousin Arthur and venom-tongue Rowena produce such a cheerful cherub?

Actually Luc is a lively, pleasant boy too. That fierce, solemn Kaitlin is more what you’d expect – secreted in a corner with Kai and Lenni’s Maeve, a large book open on their knees while they read and whisper together. Though Maeve has certainly inherited Kai’s affable charm and the two girls seem to be having fun. Thick-as-thieves from what Mark can glean.

There should be another one around the longhouse somewhere according to Mark’s reckoning ………. Shannyn, Arthur’s other daughter………oh yes, over near the hearth, sitting in what resembles a lambing pen with a couple of fluffy lambs……… orphaned by the winter snows perhaps…….? The king of Cornwall blinks and takes a curious step closer. By the gods, not baby sheep at all, but two rosy-cheeked human nestlings, wrapped in sheepskins and beaming angelically up at him.

Of course, Kai’s twins – they’d slipped Mark’s busy mind for the moment. Half-a-year old now. One with russet curls, the other a dark-haired Celt. Both handsome and hale. Shannyn sitting beside them like a small, wary nursemaid.

Obviously the lambing pen has been hammered together by Llud to keep the twins safe from the roaring Yuletide fires. A sound idea Mark has to begrudge – though he can never quite forget the pounding throb when Llud’s iron paw felled him to the ground after Modred’s Field………

Attempting his version of a winning smile, Mark nods benevolently toward Shannyn. “The babies, what names have your aunt and uncle decided on for them?” Shannyn regards him suspiciously from Arthur’s midnight-blue eyes. “They haven’t named them yet. They have until the end of Yuletide to give the twins their names.”

Now, this is disconcerting and really rather unnerving. The child speaks in precisely Arthur’s tone and with her father’s deliberate emphasis – except her voice is a sweet, silver bell. When did this pretty child become so alarming?

Mark tries another appealing smile. “What do you call the twins if they have no names yet?” A derisive snort from Shannyn – pure Arthur when the kindling piles are awry and the farmhands shuffle and waver. “We call them Little one and Little two of course. Everyone knows that. They’re our piskies until they get their names. Anyway, Uncle Kai got a new name when he was nine and it’s never mattered.”

She casts a triumphant glance in Mark’s direction while the twins gurgle and roll around her. Now, that’s a glance Mark remembers well – and with bloody fury. Arthur after booting Mark amid the mud and rescuing Rowena from being bridled like a prize mare. The memory still galls.

“So Uncle Kai did and it was a glorious thing indeed.” Kai stands at Mark’s shoulder, grinning mischievously. He drops a kiss on Shannyn’s head and tickles the twins’ plump chins. “Arthur chose my name and he couldn’t have chosen better. A man of many hidden talents is my clever little brother. Something I’m lucky enough to be privy to at first hand………”

Mark wheels quickly around. Cheeky Kai and his bloody double-edged banter. Making veiled reference to what Mark knows that he knows……….. albeit Mark can never quite catch Kai and Arthur actually at it.

Kai’s brown eyes are wide and innocent and his smile perfectly congenial. “Welcome Mark. What brings you to us out of the cold winds? I thought you’d be tucked up in your cosy Cornish longhouse with your lovely Eithna.” Holding out his cup for another ration of mead, Mark looks pensive. “I escorted Eithna and our two precious striplings to Bavick’s encampment and I thought it would be nice for her to spend some time alone with her father. It’s the sort of sacrifice a devoted husband is glad to gift a beloved wife. I miss them ……..but it does allow me to pay a kindred visit here. Share your magnificent Yuletide celebrations.”

With a loud burp, Mark shows his teeth. Just as Theo tumbles in a chortling heap between Mark and his father, knocking Mark’s mead on to the hearth stones. “Hello Cousin Mark. Sorry Cousin Mark.” – and he grins conspiratorially at Kai.

Mumbling gruffly through his bushy beard, Mark bends to retrieve his cup – yet, not before, Kai discerns a few muffled syllables. Something about ‘quality over quantity.’ Something Kai can readily interpret though. It’ll be one of Mark and Eithna’s private jokes concerning Kai and Arthur’s many offspring while there are only two regal Cornish children. Their obvious quality over Kai and Arthur’s rambunctious quantity. Irked at his spilt honey wine, stupid, oafish Mark has carelessly let it stumble out of his stupid oafish mouth.

Scowling, Kai spits into the flames. Alerting Lenni, who in turn, glowers at Mark over her ladle. For an indomitable king and a courageous warrior – and no-one had been braver on Baden Hill – Mark can be so idiotically rash and doltish.

Still frowning, Kai chews on his lip. “I’ll go and tell Arthur and Rowena that you’re here. Excuse me Mark.” Irritably Kai stalks away, disappearing into the sleeping chamber.

Left alone, with Lenni’s hostile stare flaying him, Mark suddenly feels very forlorn – despite the glittering Yuletide decorations and the splendid tree near Arthur’s great chair. How foolish to nettle Kai with that half-witted slip of the tongue. Truth be told, he’s already pining for Eithna and their beloved Tristram and darling Iseult. Bavick is about as fond of Mark as a son-by-marriage as Yorath would have been and Mark never overstays his welcome. However Bavick is a doting father and a besotted grandfather. Eithna and the children deserve to enjoy his company.

Sniffing softly, Mark is flooded with self-pity.

Abruptly the outer doors fly open, admitting an icy draught, a merry Llud and an enormous barrel. The barrel being carefully rolled along by the door wardens.

Upon seeing disconsolate Mark, Llud smiles broadly. “Mark! I just settled your men in a guest hut. They mentioned this very generous Yuletide bounty that you’ve trundled all the way here on one of Bavick’s wagons.”

“Bavick wanting to listen to his sweetly singing minstrels, rather than you singing your own praises Mark?” A quietly measured remark made almost against his ear –and Mark almost shits in his breeches. Arthur, having approached from behind as soundlessly as a panther, under cover of the general babble. Looking none too pleased either – any more than Kai or Rowena do, lurking beside him. Clearly Kai has repeated Mark’s hasty blunder.

Desperately Mark goes galloping up to the cask, snatches a chisel from Llud’s work bench for leverage and wrenches off the lid. At once the air is doused by the heady aromas of spiced cinnamon and cloves and amber wine. “My humble contribution to the festivities. The renowned ‘aqua vitae’ which is produced by the monks of Bavick’s abbey. I hear that Llud likes it well……….”

Mark smiles pleadingly. Llud obliviously gives an agreeable grunt. Arthur huffs. Kai puffs. Rowena glares. Lenni stares.

It’s going to be an interesting Yuletide.

Part Seven

Kai will tolerate Mark if he has to - and he sees no real point in telling Llud about Mark’s stupid slip of the tongue. Llud’s likely – no, Llud will – clout Mark with his silver hand and start a fine old hullabaloo. Ultimately, it will gain naught and simply ruin Llud’s Yuletide. Let their father enjoy his robust aqua vitae and his robust grandchildren undisturbed. It’s certainly what forbearing, wise, patient Llud deserves.

It’s just that Kai actually doesn’t like sharing Yuletide with anyone but Arthur and their family these days. Of course, Yorath is always welcome and Corin, Braith and their lively brood are likewise pleasing. Mark and Braith’s feisty, witty mother Lia too.

Other than that, Kai appreciates his hearth and home remaining uninvaded. Mark is nosy and overly inquisitive. Relentlessly curious and prying and earsdropping. And it’s not like he and Arthur can exactly flee away to the winter woods for some lovely privacy. Their cocks would drop off from frost-blight. Inevitably, Mark will be prowling around the armoury and the store hut if they attempt a quick, clandestine jaunt and the guest quarters are stuffed with Cornish warriors.

Actually, Kai is feeling downright indignant as he stamps home through the muddy snow. The foremost resentment plaguing him is about tomorrow night, after the gift-giving and the main feast is over and the longhouse settles down to sweet dreams. Because that is the time when he and Arthur always sit by the fire and exchange the special presents that they’ve acquired for each other and cosset and nestle. Before falling asleep wrapped around by their warm bodies and warm sheepskins.

It’s a tradition – as much as wassail and holly and mistletoe. Has been since that first miraculous midwinter after Benedicta sailed off to Gaul and he and Arthur rekindled their love forevermore.

Now bloody Mark seems sets fair to fuck everything royally up.

There’s candles burning in the guestquarters and the sounds of rather drunken singing wafting on the frosty air. “……I have a yong suster…… Fer biyonde the see…….Manye be the druries……..That she sente me…….” Hopefully they’re also serenading Mark to slumber.

Which does indeed appear to be the case when Kai reaches the longhouse. No sign of Mark who has eaten a huge supper and downed enough ale to stun a stag. Instead Lenni gives Kai a drowsy kiss and hands him Ren. She has the twins to suckle – why doesn’t he put their weary toddler to bed? Especially since Arthur already has his arms full of Shannyn and Baden and is hovering beside the sleeping chamber door…….? And a teasing, tender smile quirks her mouth.

What a truly lovely notion that be.

Helpfully holding the bedroom door ajar for laden Arthur, Kai whispers softly against his little brother’s ear. “What did Llud’s sage old grandfather always say? With patience and perseverance you can stretch a fly’s arsehole over a bucket? So will we outfox Mark beloved.”

Grinning, Kai leans forward to kiss Arthur when ………

“Evening.”

Lucky that both Kai and Arthur have a firm grasp on their children or all three would go tumbling to the rushes. It’s Mark of Cornwall. Smiling genially. Tucked up cosily among Llud’s sheepskins. Looking content and replete.

As Kai and Arthur collect their wildly scattered wits, Mark gives a lavish belch and a less-than-discreet fart.

“Surprised you didn’t I? Went to check on my men earlier and met Llud on his way to make merry with this lady friend Olwen. Therefore I thought it wouldn’t be an inconvenience for me to hit the fleeces here. I like the family atmosphere. Let myself in by the outer door – hope you don’t mind.” Mark beams, cuddles down under the blankets and closes his eyes.

Kai fiercely smothers the urge to smother Cornwall’s belching, farting king with Lenni’s woollen nightgown.

Matters only going from bad to worse when Shannyn becomes restless and her bottom lip begins to quiver plaintively. Startled, Arthur strokes her cheek. “What’s the matter love? There’s nothing to be grieved about. Yuletide gift-giving in the morning.” Shannyn sniffs and murmurs sadly. “That’s nice Daddy. I just wish you weren’t quarrelling.”

For a moment Arthur can’t catch her meaning – then he glances over at Kai and suddenly understands. His big brother is still lying there frowning and bristling beautifully in the firelight. Moreover he and Kai are in separate beds, when generally they lie together and nuzzle until the others come drifting in, ready for slumber.

Oh…………..

Gently, Arthur leans forward and whispers. “Sweetheart, Uncle Kai and I aren’t cross with each other. Far from it. We’re just being……….polite because Cousin Mark is here and it’s courteous to be…………self-restrained in front of guests. Do you know what that means?” His younger daughter speculatively taps the elegant nose she inherited from Rowena. “I think it means that you can’t kiss.” Hurriedly, Arthur stifles his laughter. “Yes, it means exactly that clever girl. Now, off to sleep before the Yuletide fearies who are sheltering from the cold amid our holly overhear us.”

Through slitted lids Mark sees Shannyn cast him one last Arthur-mustering-the-troops look before closing her eyes and disappearing beneath the sheepskins on her pallet.

Intimidating child. He’s certain that Arthur’s been telling her gossipy tales about him – just as, the more he muses on it, he’s becoming certain that Kai and Arthur were coming in here to do something other than rock those little ones to clouds and cuckoos……….

Not that baby-rocking is any disgrace or even unmanly. It can’t be because he’s done the bulk of it where Tristram and Iseult are concerned and he’s Mark of Cornwall, champion wrestler, renowned warrior, mightiest king in the West……..nay in the country.

Buttressed by that pleasing thought, Mark is about to re-visit the Pandora’s box of Kai and Arthur’s romantic entanglements when the bedroom door creaks open. Admitting the older boys, followed by Lenni and finally Rowena. Curiously Mark watches Lenni tuck the twins in their cradles, braid her long dark hair and slide into bed beside Kai. Smiling tenderly when he slips his arm companionably around her.

At least, Mark can see the attraction here. Lenni’s been besotted by Kai since they were children and she has wonderful, ripe tits. Once, Mark can recall Kai drunkenly telling Krist that every time Lenni clutches his erect cock instead of her ancient eagle stones, she gets with child. Certainly, Mark knows naught about runic charms – however he can imagine that Lenni’s a fiery temptress when she and Kai couple.

Rowena though……..now giggling softly against Arthur’s shoulder. All boyish and waspish. Hair cropped as if she’s a Roman thrall. She’d make a man flaccid as an old frayed stocking.

Delicately Mark shudders. A nightmare never to be borne – even for the large parcel of land that he once so coveted for her dowry. Thankfully, his beauteous Ethina was waiting to transform his world and win his heart. What an eternally fortunate man he is.

And Mark falls asleep, dreaming of Eithna hellbent on leathering him straight to paradise……

Sunrise and hot porridge and apple dumplings and spiced Yule wine.

Excited squeals as gifts are distributed and new treasures unveiled.

Children prattling and wives preening and the twins’first gummy Yuletide smiles.

Llud chuckling appreciatively at his fine russet shirt, getting the message loud and clear..

Theo flushed with pride as he ripples the handsome sword belt through his hands.

Kai immediately lacing up those grand sheepskin slippers and scrambling around, grinning like a loon.

Arthur inordinately pleased at the magnificent leather boots Rowena presents to him.

There’s also a stately silver belt-buckle for Mark, obtained by Arthur from Esla’s trader - well, it’s only fitting to say thank-you for the aqua vitae.

It would also be very fitting, Kai grumbles to himself, if Mark were to spend tonight in stately repose amid the hollow hills and leave him and his Arthur to their traditional sweet, fireside pleasures.

Yet how precisely when it’s so chill out……….

Hmmmmmm…………..

Kai laces his glorious fleecy slippers a little tighter and furrows his forehead………

Part Eight

By mid-afternoon all is set fair for tonight’s feast. Suckling pig glistening on the spit. Goose stuffed with pears and galingale. Well-seasoned haunch of venison Rich wildflower mead that’s sure to put you under the table if you dip your cup in the cask thrice.

Llud deftly organizes his grandchildren, distributing baskets and jugs and heaped platters. Food and ale and Yuletide cheer to be carried up to the huts behind the village where the Wood People are wintering. Of course, they’re celebrating the feast day of their sacred goddess, rather than the birth of Arthur’s Christ of the One God. The holly berries around their lintels represent hallowed menstrual blood.

Still, it’s all one and the same really. God or Goddess. Son or Sun. Good will and good luck and great blessings.

When they’ve trotted off, Llud shepherding and cajoling, the longhouse is temporarily quiet. The twins napping in the bedroom, the door ajar. Arthur sprawled in his great chair, rather drowsy from adder’s sting, Rowena seated on his lap and finishing a plate of Lenni’s fowl stewed with sage and parsley. Kai cuddling Lenni whose gown is still unlaced at the breast where the twins have just suckled.

Mark peers furtively from the table where he’s still devouring a huge trencher piled high with crispels, traditional, round, sweet Yuletide pastries, basted in honey.

Very deliberately Arthur begins to lick the grease from Rowena’s long, white fingers. Putting each one slowly between his lips and sucking it clean. While Rowena softly smiles and whimpers.

Narrowing his suspicious brown eyes, Mark swallows his last sticky crispel and washes it down with a generous swig of aqua vitae. By the gods, its potent stuff, giving you a decent kick in the head and the gut each time you indulge.

Then his idly wandering gaze falls on Kai – and the heady amber wine snorts straight up Mark’s hairy nostrils. Making him choke and splutter violently.

Kai is also licking – delightedly licking the remaining milky dewdrops on Lenni’s firm, dark nipples. Tickling Lenni’s chin. Chuckling at her entranced shivers.

Feeling Mark’s gawking stare, Kai glances up, grinning. “Oh Mark……..we almost forgot you were there…………" He exchanges a meaningful glance with Arthur that Mark certainly doesn’t miss. “Perhaps I should explain…………..you see on Yuletide afternoons like these. Llud always takes the children on an errand for a purpose – to allow us some……….relaxing time alone together.”

Another eloquent look – this time toward the shiny, leather riding crop leaning beside Arthur’s chair. Yorath’s Yuletide gift to Rowena. Guilelessly Kai twinkles. “I hear tell that such things need not only be used on a recalcitrant beast……….”

They are so fucking with him.

Mark’s certain of that. Alright, the licking and such seems real – and Mark has often savoured similar pleasures himself. However, they couldn’t possibly know about his and Eithna’s frequent………tanning hide sessions…………..could they?

Eithna has never ever mentioned anything about Kai spanking her. God’s teeth, is that where her predilections all sprung forth? She was a virgin before Kai first tweaked her tit………

Abruptly Mark blunders to his feet and adjusts his woollen cloak. “I have to go and check on my men. See they’ve adequate rations and kindling………. I’ll leave you to your ……..relaxations till tonight’s feast.”

The rather alarmed King of Cornwall disappears outside in a flurry of chill wind and bristling beard.

Laughing tipsily, Arthur nibbles on Rowena’s knuckles. “Well, that will distract him for a while. Nosy old oaf that Mark can be sometimes.” He watches Kai tracing the line of Lenni’s throat with his wet, pink tongue. “Big brother, that night you and Eithna shared………….I’ve never been especially curious about the exact details – much nicer remembering what came after…..but did you really put one another over your knees………?”

Devilishly Kai winks. “Little brother, probably it would be much more fun if I was actually to show you one day soon………….. a practical demonstration appealing to your eminently practical nature as it were………” and he sweeps Lenni off her feet and under the mistletoe.

It’s a magnificent feast that night. The longhouse brimming with friends and guests. Warmth and merriment and frolic. Toasts and talk and tomfoolery. Brother Amlodd arrives from Rolf the Preacher’s encampment on his trusty, sure-footed mule – later than usual this Yule because he’s been busy baptising Rolf’s newest grandson. White snow blanketing his black cowl. Beaming benevolently around and remarking how congenial it has been exchanging seasonal………..treats with his dearest friend Abbot Morpeth.

The Wood Elder attends, smiling shyly, clutching the tall wooden staff topped by its distinctive fleecy tussock which is her people’s ceremonial trademark.

Truly, the tussocky tokens have always fascinated Kai since their essential function remains shrouded in inviolable Wood superstition. Magic wand? Walking stick? Scouring implement? Witch’s ladle? Sexual sceptre?

Speaking of sex………..Llud is unfailingly polite to the Elder, but ensures that Olwen’s hand is clasped firmly in his good one throughout the festivities. Their father and the somewhat odorous Elder have had amorous adventures in the past – of that he and Arthur are certain. Perhaps she still harbours some predatory aspirations where Llud of the large Silver …... thingamajig is concerned…………

Olwen certainly appears to be both lover and shield for Llud tonight – much to Kai’s wassail-fuelled amusement.

Amlodd gives his kindly Christian blessings. Mark – restored to good humour by the prospect of scrumptious fare- leans forward to begin hacking at venison and goose. Tugram playfully swipes the rosy apple from the boar’s mouth.

Then a silvery strumming shimmers through the crowded room. Theo dextrously plucking at the strings of Kai’s kithara. Mellow and pleasing and true.

In a voice like honeyed silk, he begins to sing. Joined by Cedric and Luc and by Kai – though Arthur is too reticent and Llud sounds as if his neck is being chicken-wrung when he attempts to hold a tune.

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan, earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone; snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow, in the bleak midwinter, long ago……

A sweet ballad of hope and faith and promise, unfurling like a benediction around the hushed company………

When the last exquisite note has faded away, Kai remains on his feet. Mead cup in hand. Smiling contentedly.

Haloed by the flickering firelight, he’s so beautiful that Lenni’s eyes well and Arthur’s breath stills.

With a courteous half-bow, Kai gazes about and starts to speak, a powerful emotion trembling below his words. “Half a year ago, my lovely wife Lenni gave me a most precious Beltane gift – the hale, happy twins over there on their doting grandfather's knee. Lenni has had the naming of our little raven-haired Celt and I, our little russet-haired imp. And it’s been quite a matter for mulling over – well, on my part, since our clever Lenni chose her name without any of my dithering.”

He pauses for a moment and grins. “High time therefore that the twins’ names were bestowed. Especially while good Brother Amlodd is visiting.”

Kai’s brown eyes soften. “The names of the twins shall be Brett……….and Arthur.”

Conclusion

There’s a short silence – and then Tugram’s distinctive, rasping voice rings out. “But Kai, they’re two little girl-children.”

Kai gives the beautiful grin that makes Lenni’s heart flutter and Arthur’s gallop. “I do recall that Tugram. Just let me explain……….. Brett has been chosen by Lenni in remembrance of my Saxon childhood and it’s a gesture that only deepens my love for her.” Gently he blows Lenni a kiss and Lenni blushes like the rawest maiden.

“Because Brett is not a common Celtic name, for neither boy nor girl, our daughter can bear it proudly and begin a new tradition…………Her second name though will be wholly Celtic because it shall be Rhosyn, ‘little rose.’ Roses symbolize a union that will never fade – even through time or death………and such is the bond Lenni and I share. Lenni is one of the sweetest things that a man can hope for in this life – a true friend and a stout ally.”

Of course Lenni is silently weeping all over her venison by now and snivelling all over her wine –and she’s never been more perfectly happy.

Once more Kai’s eyes sparkle with tenderness . “As for our little tawny-haired girl called Arthur ……..well, obviously she can’t be known as that around the longhouse – far too confusing when everyone gets called home for supper. Therefore she shall be known by her second name – Ivy.”

His gaze never wavers from Arthur’s face as he speaks. “This name is also a testimony to my beloved little brother………. Our forest ivy is ever furrowing and intertwining………….a symbol of the twists and turns that we take as brothers……….it can also endure the harshest of challenges and yet flourish – so too Arthur and I have only grown stronger together across the years………..He is the best of brothers and he has my eternal thanks and my love.”

Solemn now, Kai raises his mead cup toward Arthur and softly smiles.

A bloody good thing it is too that so much rowdy cheering and raucous caterwauling breaks out as Kai sits down because it masks the fact that Arthur’s blue eyes are looking suspiciously shiny. Briskly Rowena commences diversionary tactics – plonking an enticing platter of pheasant and chestnuts on the table and plonking Baden on Arthur’s lap. Telling everyone to make merry. Leaning over to remind Mark that the pheasant is stuffed with pearl onions – his mother Lia’s recipe and his favourite (alright, she’d much rather that Mark eat the bare bones, but at least it stops the rotund fool gawking at Arthur.)

Wine flows. Stories are swopped and embellished. Pledges made for the year ahead. Laughter and kisses and cuddles exchanged.

Eventually, though the newly-named Brett and Ivy fall asleep in their father’s arms, the other children start to yawn and Llud decides that the eating and entertainment has gone on long enough. The longhouse has been generous and displayed munificent hospitality. Time now for some quiet and privacy.

Graciously but firmly, villagers are cajoled back to their huts and guests away to their quarters. Mark’s men stumble out into the frosty night bellowing bawdy songs. Brother Amlodd goes happily to seek his sheepskins, bearing a jug of mulled mead and a smile of pure contentment. Olwen and the Wood Elder have arms linked and hooded heads together as Kai passes them on his way to the privy – enthusiastically discussing what seems to concern women's sexual fulfilment.

Relaxing, relieving piss over, Kai is returning in spritely fashion to the longhouse - he has plans afoot – and grinning to himself over Llud’s lusty womenfolk, when he does indeed bump straight into his father. Loitering in the shadows and chuckling. “Oh Kai – just the man I wanted to see. I’m off to share a little more Yuletide joy with Olwen - You, my boy, better get on inside and march your son out from under the mistletoe. He’s indulging in far too much kissing for a lad of his tender years.”

Kai groans. “It’s Theo and that pretty granddaughter of Olwen’s isn’t it? They never stop making sheep eyes at each other, the daft pair.” A delighted smile creases Llud’s often-grim lips. “Actually no, not Theo. It’s Cedric and the girl is Gwenifer’s very fetching daughter Erea.” Now Kai looks downright alarmed. “But Cedric’s only eleven. What does he think he’s about?” Llud gives a bark of gleeful laughter. “As I recall Kai, you were exactly the same age when I first threatened to leather you for doing exactly the same thing with Gwenifer herself……….. not to mention your tangled adventures with Erea’s Auntie Leesa……..Ah, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Welcome to my world boy and godspeed.”

Still chortling, Llud wanders off toward Olwen’s hut, leaving Kai flustered.

So, Cedric’s romantic ambitions to thwart and then finally peace is restored and calm reigns again – or would if Mark wasn’t benignly ensconced at the table like a large, mead-muddled moon. Remarking what a wonderful evening it has truly been. He may still miss his precious Eithna and their cherished children – yet this has been the next best thing. Oh, surely yes.

Arthur smiles regretfully at Kai and mouths “I love you” while Mark is busy pouring yet another cup of honey wine. Sadly there will be no lovely cossetting by the fire for them this Yultide. Really, the loss is enough to make even a seasoned warrior weep……..

“Big brother, I promised Kait and Maeve the legend of Taliesin the Shapeshifter before they sleep. I’ll join you and Mark in a while……” Another rueful shrug and Arthur slips into the girls’ bedroom.

Mark blinks blearily at Kai. “Join me in a drink Kai. Plenty Yule cheer yet to spread.” Carefully Kai lowers himself to the bench beside Mark. “Actually Mark, if it wasn’t such a chill night, I’d take you to the Leaking Cock……..”

Taken aback, Mark abruptly swallows his mead, almost choking. “The what?” Kai’s expression is as pure and unsullied as new-fallen snow. “The Leaking Cock. It’s the ale-house in the forest – belongs to Llud’s old friend Efa and her family. Instead of hanging leaves over the door and calling it ‘Bull and Bush’ like the Romans did, she’s named it after an unfortunate rooster that………anyway, it’s an unsavoury tale involving……….well, some people’s kinks don’t bear scrutiny………..Suffice to say that it’s a pleasant establishment and we must go there come your next summer visit.” Kai is all chivalry and accord. “In the meantime, let’s toast one another in adder’s sting. As you rightly proclaim Mark, ample Yule cheer yet to spread………”

When Arthur concludes his rousing fable and the girls reluctantly succumb to slumber, everything is hushed and peaceful. Mark and Kai must be murmuring so as not to disturb the otherwise sleeping longhouse.

Silently opening the wicker door, Arthur steps out into the main room.

The first thing he sees is Mark. Well-wrapped in cloaks and quilts. Comfortably curled in a corner. Snoring like a wintering badger.

Very cautiously, mouth quirking, Arthur prods his burly cousin with the toe of his boot. Not a single solitary hair on Mark’s beard stirs.

Nodding to himself, Arthur takes a wine goblet and goes to sprawl beside Kai. His big brother is lying among the fleeces by the fire, looking immensely complacent and completely beautiful.

Arthur rests his black head on Kai’s shoulder and laughs softly. “Did you use common comfrey or common rue my heart?” Kai’s lips glide gently across Arthur’s silken, raven hair. “Comfrey – Lenni gave me the potion of course. You can’t taste it in good mead. Rowena said just to whallop Mark with a hammer but we thought this was more kindly………” He reaches inside his shirt and takes out a small hide pouch, still warm from his skin. “Merry Yuletide my darling. The rogue of a merchant I bargained this from insisted it was wrought in Athens……..”

A thin, gold cuff bracelet. Flat enough to be worn into battle. Wondrous enough to make Arthur tearful all over again.

Best instead to kiss Kai precisely as he’s been longing to do since sunrise.

Wild and fierce and unbroken.

Then to fish a pelt-covered parcel from its hidey-hole within Rowena’s sewing casket and place it lovingly in Kai’s hands. “For your measures of silver and bronze beloved. Perhaps it will enliven your fortune at dice. Esla’s trader says that they’re tokens of luck.”

Leather pouches don’t come any more exquisite. Emblazoned with garnet birds and wolves. Twinkling with silver gilt.

Ah……….the only known cure for Kai’s happy sniffing and quivering lip is assuredly another of those long, slow, deep, delicious kisses………….

Like so………….and, simply to be on the safe side, just one more………….

Sighing contentedly, Arthur lets his fingers trace the line of Kai’s shoulder blades beneath his big brother’s tunic. “A perfect Yuletide my Kai………..our family secure……….the twins named…………you here with me……………yes, I like it well……………Indeed, I like it perfectly…………”

Arthur’s hand tickles back along Kai’s nape, making Kai shiver with bliss. “Arthur, what are you doing?” Tenderly, Arthur tucks a blanket around them both and pulls Kai close. “Oh……..merely checking for feathers. Since you’re my Yule angel Kai and every angel burgeons wings.”

Laughing gently, Kai claims Arthur’s mouth.

From his cosy corner, Mark snorts cheerfully in agreement.

There – case closed. It’s been the perfect Yuletide and Kai really is an angel.

Because Mark has agreed so and, as we all know, Mark is always right.


End file.
